Saturday, March 15, 2008

This year’s Cinderella story is… Lisa-Helen Ralph. By day she guides tourists around Bath’s fashion museum. By night she sits in her room “dreaming of modelling the clothes I describe”. That dream is yours to make or break. But one thing’s for sure: it could also be a nightmare. “I’m under a Honey hex,” she grins. “I got the Top 100 call while running away from a cockroach, and I read the Top 10 letter while being sick.”

A pretty face and smokin’ torso aren’t enough to win High Street Honeys. You also need to be a savvy self-publicist. Step forward Lindsey Cole. “I’m doing events management,” smiles Lindsay. “It helped my campaign a lot. I put on club nights and got myself in newspapers. If I win, I’ll juggle the two careers.” Tough, but Lindsey does have form: she maintains 2,150 Facebook friendships. “It’s ridiculous,” laughs the Manc. “A Greek man said he’d marry me if I flew over. I politely told him where to go.”

The laugh is present – a hearty county cackle – and so is the fake tan. But the highlights, the low IQ and the penchant for shagging in Escorts are absent. Laura Perry is like no Essex girl we’ve encountered previously. “Thanks,” she smiles. “Really, thanks. I never believed I was good enough to model before Honeys. Now, if I win, I’ll pursue it. So, if you want to see more, get voting.”

Those who perused the Honeys videos will be aware of Katie “erotic, exotic and a little psychotic” Green. Those who didn’t will be soon. Katie’s 20, she comes from Chichester – home to reigning Honey Charlotte McKenna. And she hates shoplifters: “I work in New Look – and one day saw this lady walk off with a coat,” recalls Katie. “So I ran after her and rugby tackled her to the floor.”

“I’m a tomboy. I like football and music.” Clair Meek is talking and FHM is listening. Actually, all we’re getting is “blah, blah, blah”. A lack of focus brought on by God’s gifts to Clair that are, in turn, Clair’s 28G gifts to mankind. And… actually, forget professionalism. Just talk us though them: “They run in the family,” shrugs Clair, an action that takes some effort. “I was the wee, flat-chested one. Then I turned 16 and they were there. All the boys were like: ‘Holy shit!’”

Bend, smile, pout… for someone who, by virtue of her job as a photographic assistant, is supposedly more at home behind the lens, Tricia Passam seems remarkably confident flouncing around in front of it. FHM smells an extra-curricular rat. “You’ve got me,” smiles Tricia. “My boyfriend has shot me recently. You should thank him. Without him I wouldn’t have had the confidence to enter, let alone pose.” Grudging thanks, indeed.

An FHM front cover, a better flat… Brooke Bond (yes, real name) knows what she wants. She’s also aware that to get it – orate in the style of Lord Kitchener – she needs you. “It’s hard to break the modelling world without taking your clothes off,” she pleads convincingly. “Winning Honeys would give me a jump start.”

What do you call a Honey who was named after a Kiss song, attends Hell’s Angels festivals and seeks boys who are “smelly and hairy”? You call her Bethany New. “I’m an attractive grunger,” reveals Farnborough’s finest. “I’m alternative, but I don’t stray too far, because I want to be accepted for who I am – a pretty girl with a refreshing attitude.”

Five Honey contests held. Five English belles crowned. But, maybe, just maybe, this year, the Sassenach hegemony will end. For an army is swelling north of the border. An army whose cavalry is commanded by a “horse-loving country bumpkin” (read: she lives on a farm, has a rock-hard backside and owns whips). Meet Amy Gould. “C’mon the Scots,” she giggles. “Leon won X-Factor, Gordon Brown is Prime Minister. It’s time for a Scottish Honey.”

“Even if I don’t win, Honeys has helped me,” muses Charlotte Joy. “I saw my hair on fhm.com and was horrified. I had to change back.” So she’s turned back to blonde from brunette – from seriousness back to fun. “I love it,” grins Joy. “I can’t wait to show it off.” Good news for Portsmouth’s male population indeed, although they won’t get to see Charlotte’s ‘party trick’: applying lipstick with her cleavage. “That,” she winks, “was just for FHM.”